Spark
by Rachel Sayre
Summary: 15 years later, Jack and Rose face new challenges they never anticipated. They may not be poor anymore, but infertility, depression, and life changing injuries are just some of the things they must deal with. Will they surive everything fate throws their way?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I've taken some historical liberties. WWI didn't happen in this universe, and as later chapters will explain, the situation in India involves the movement for independence from Britian. **

_Philadelphia _

_August 1927_

Rose held her hat by the brim, resisting the hot wind's efforts to tear it from her head as she stepped from the train. "Here, let me help you," Jack said, placing one hand on her waist and the other on her elbow. "I'm fine," she replied. "Really, I am." But he held on anyway. "There we go," he said once they were on the ground. He slipped his hand into hers. "It's this way," he added, turning them to the right. After a few steps he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Rose shook her head. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered.

"I don't want you walking into anything unexpected," he said. Rose nodded. "I know," she said. "There's a lot of people here," he added. "I hear that," she said. "It sounds like quite a crowd." Beads of sweat ran down her forehead. The back of her dress was already damp. A slight redness filled her cheeks. "We're almost there," Jack assured her. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, laughing. "Am I such an invalid I can't walk in the heat for ten minutes?"

"I don't want to walk in this heat for ten minutes," he replied. His collar stuck to the back of his neck; stray locks of hair were plastered to his forehead. "And luckily," he said, opening the door of a taxi. "We're not."

….

The black door loomed over them. It was perfectly ordinary, and yet neither of them enjoyed standing in front of it. They didn't particularly like anything about Ruth's house. It was cold and stiff, though at times that seemed unintentional, as if it were simply being itself. "You told her, right?" Rose asked. "She isn't going to—be shocked." A hint of nervousness crept into her voice. "Of course, it will be a shock, but what I mean is, not a complete shock." She touched the scars next to her eyes. The one on the left ran down her cheek. "With the way I look…." Jack placed his hands over hers. "You look beautiful," he said. He gently removed her hands from her face. "Don't even think about it."

"I can't see it, but I know how bad it is," she argued. "You don't have to lie." Rose felt his gaze on her. "Stop looking at me like that," she said. He took her face in his hands. "Like what?" He lightly traced her scars with his fingertips. "Like this?" he asked, tilting her head up slightly. She shivered despite the heat. His lips brushed hers. "You're beautiful," he whispered, pulling her closer. "Jack," she sighed.

Grinning, he kissed her. "Yes?" She closed her eyes and let her head fall against his shoulder. "You haven't convinced me of anything," she said, her voice muffled. "That's alright," he said. "I will."

Neither of them noticed the door open. Clara watched them for a moment before loudly clearing her throat. Laughing, they turned toward her. "Madam would like to know if you are planning to come in," she said.

"Of course we are," Rose said. "But we hadn't even knocked yet." Clara's tone was stiffly polite. "She saw your taxi through the window, upstairs." She pointed toward a window on the left. "Follow me, please."

"Of course she already knows we're here," Jack murmured. "She knows everything we do." Rose giggled nervously. "Jack, don't!" she whispered.

"She watches us when we're here," he replied. "Trying to figure out why you stay with me."

…..

The tension was palpable. Ruth's words were polite, courteous and pleasant even, but her tone was clipped when she addressed Jack, and her eyes were flinty. "How was your trip?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea. "It was nice," Rose said. "We…had very good weather."

"I don't understand what persuaded you to get on another ship," Ruth replied. "I'd never set foot on another boat, of any size, if I were you."

"It can't happen twice," Rose said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. She couldn't see her mother's expression, but she sensed it. Jack reached over and took her hand. "And we like a little adventure," she finished. Ruth's mouth thinned. "I've been told," she said, locking eyes with Jack. "Some might say you like it a bit too much." Rose gave his hand a squeeze. "Oh, you've always thought that," she said airily. "Remember when I wanted a bicycle? You were convinced it would kill me—or render me barren."

"Rose, don't talk about such things," Ruth said sharply, as if she were scolding a child. "You know it isn't appropriate."

"Who else would be more appropriate to say something like that to, if not my mother and my husband?"

Ruth sighed heavily. "Why you insist on trying to shock, I'll never know, _but _since you _insist_ we discuss the matter, is there any other reason you've yet to have children?" Jack studied the pattern on his tea cup. Rose stared straight ahead, her face blank. Both knew the answer, but neither wanted to say it. Especially not to Ruth. Their relationship with her had never been ideal, but it had reached a point where they could all tolerate one another, which meant more to all of them than they cared to let on. Explaining they _couldn't_ have children together would only strengthen her belief in the overall wrongness of their marriage. "You may love her," she had said to Jack more than once, "But you don't deserve her, and you were never supposed to marry her. Such _arrogance_." He always replied the same way. "Maybe it is, but she's happy."

"May I have another sandwich?" Rose asked, breaking the silence. "Of course," Ruth said. "He may not feed you properly, but I will." Ignoring Ruth's comment, Rose lifted her hand; she froze, unsure where to go from there. "Right here," Jack said, lifting the plate so she could reach it. "Thank you," she said, quietly. Ruth studied her solemnly. "Is there any hope for your eyes?"

"Some," Rose answered. "There isn't much, but Dr. Kendrick, the last doctor we saw in England, he thought it was possible my sight could return."

"When?" Ruth pressed.

"There's no way of knowing," Rose explained slowly. "It would likely be gradual, and—and it may not last."

"So, you'll be like this forever?" Ruth forced her voice to remain even. Her lips pinched together, and her eyes hardened. Jack met her gaze with difficulty. _It wasn't my fault. _But he didn't entirely believe that.

_India _

_1924_

"Rose! Rose where are you?" Jack fought to hear himself. Bombs exploded in the distance; screams filled the air. People ran in all directions. It was almost like being back on the _Titanic_ as it sank. He tried to stay still—how could she find him if he kept moving?—but the crowd swept him along. "Rose!"

He saw her hair first, and then her white dress. "Rose!" he screamed, shoving his way through the crowd. She lay in a heap at the edge of the road, as if she'd stumbled there and fallen. "Rose," he said, quietly now, as he gently lifted her up. She was unresponsive. He couldn't breathe. Blood ran down her face; her eyes were closed. He pressed her closer and began running. "Don't die!" he yelled through clenched teeth. "You won't die."

…

"Do you need any help?" Jack watched her from the doorway. Rose shook he head. "I can do this." She slowly ran the brush through her hair. "I'm sorry," she said, "for how my mother—"

"Don't be. She's just angry about what happened."

"Aren't we all?" Rose carefully laid the brush down. She moved toward him, holding her hands out in case she misread the direction his voice was coming from. "It isn't your fault."

"Isn't it?"

She cupped his cheek. "No," she said softly." Closing his eyes, he leaned into her touch; her hand was soft and cool. "If I didn't have these scars, she wouldn't care half as much," Rose said.

"That's not true."

"Before there was always a hope I would leave you for a man she wouldn't be quite so ashamed of, but now…I don't even understand why _you_ still want me."

Jack's eyes snapped open. "I love you," he said.

"That's not the same." She let out a surprised cry as he swept her off the floor. "Jack—" Her words were lost as his lips moved down her neck. His kisses were light but with a sense of urgency. "Jack," she began again.

"Sshh…" he said, laying her down. He kissed her lips. She wanted to resist; this wasn't the way to resolve their discussion. A gasp escaped her throat as his hand moved up her leg. "You're beautiful," he said. He kissed her again, deeply this time. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing him closer. He reached around her, searching for the buttons on her dress.

For a moment they simply lay, their nude bodies pressed together. Jack caressed her face. "I love you," he said. He took her hand. "You're beautiful." He kissed her palm before gently guiding her hand down. "And I want you."

….

Rose's breathing was even; she was curled up against him, one arm thrown over him. Her face rested against his chest. Jack watched her, wondering what she saw in her dreams. He brushed a few stray curls away from her face before kissing her cheek. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he slipped out of bed.

His footfalls echoed in the empty hallway. He walked past what seemed like dozens of closed doors. Why did Ruth and her husband need so many rooms? They lived alone, save for the servants, who had their own quarters at the back of the house. His stomach growled. The tiny sandwiches served at tea were never especially filling, and the tension had kept him from eating more than a few bites. He quickened his pace and headed for the kitchen.

Dinner was just beginning to be prepared when he walked in. Ruth was gone for the rest of the afternoon—and as for her husband, he had yet to see him during this particular visit—but dinner would still be served promptly when she arrived back. "Yes?" the cook, Martha said, surprised at his sudden appearance. "Do you need something? Or your wife—she's not well, Madam says."

"She's fine," he answered. "She's…" _What? Recovered from her injuries?_ The fact was, she had recovered very well, aside from the blindness, but there was nothing more they could do about that. The glass shards and bits of rock and dirt that had gotten into her eyes after the blast had damaged them irreparably. "She's fine," he said again, more to himself than to Martha. Except she wasn't really, was she? It was the shock. She _would_ be fine, as soon as she recovered from the shock of it all, and he couldn't expect her to just be the same, as if nothing had happened. "I was just wondering if I could have something to eat before dinner," he said, flashing a smile.

Jack slowly walked through the downstairs rooms, munching a sandwich. Even during a mid-August heatwave, the house was cold. He didn't know how Ruth did it. He popped the last bite into his mouth and prepared to head back upstairs when the front door swung open. He turned to face Ruth, who frowned at the sight of him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Going back upstairs."

"Where is Rose? You didn't leave her alone, so she can injure herself further, did you?" she demanded.

"She's asleep," he said, a defensive note in his voice. He immediately regretted letting it creep in. "I came down for something to eat. Aren't you back early?"

She swept past him and into the sitting room. "It's none of your affair, but yes, I am," she said. She removed her hat and gloves and placed them on the table. Jack hesitated, unsure whether to stay or go. "I don't know how you talked her into going to that Godforsaken place," Ruth said.

"It was her idea."

"Of course it was." Ruth sighed. "And you did nothing to discourage it."

"Why should I? I didn't know she would get hurt." He moved into the doorway. "She could have been hurt anywhere—maybe not in the same way, but…" Guilt washed over him. He should have known, somehow. The image of Rose crying in their bed at home filled his mind. "I just wanted to make her happy again," he said.

_January 1923_

_Santa Monica_

_Jack lay down beside her. She didn't resist when he wrapped his arms around her. "It's gonna be alright," he said, running his fingers through her hair. "No, it isn't," she whispered. "What's wrong with me, Jack? Why can't I…"_

"_I don't know. Maybe it's just not supposed to happen for us." _

"_I thought this time would be different," she said. "It felt different." A fresh wave of tears overcame her. He hugged her tighter. "It isn't your fault," he said. He brushed the tears from her eyes. "I don't care if it never happens, as long as I have you." _

"I'm doing everything I can for her," he said. "She's seen the best doctors in India and England."

Ruth sniffed. "The best you could afford."

"The best there are."

"And is that all you've done?"

"That's all she wants. I can't make her keep going, and if they can't tell us anything new, she shouldn't have to. If I could change it, if somehow I could, if it could be _me_ instead—" His voice cracked. "But I can't. I can only watch her go through this, and try to make it easier for her. And I don't care that you still, after _fifteen years_ haven't accepted that she married me because helping her be happy again is more important than any of your opinions about this situation. So stop saying things that upset her." Without waiting for a response, he turned and left. He was at the top of the stairs when he heard Rose's scream; he broke into a run.

"Jack!" she cried, terrified. She was tangled in the sheets. He lifted her up, sheets and all, and clasped her to him. "I'm here," he said soothingly. "I'm right here. I didn't leave you." She sobbed into his shirt. "It felt so real," she stammered. "I was there again—the bomb went off—everything hurt so much—and I couldn't find you. I couldn't see anything, and I couldn't find you."

"I'm right here," he said. "I'll always be right here." He looked up to see Ruth watching from the doorway. "Don't leave me," Rose pleaded.

"I would never."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: **Thanks for the reviews so far! I hope you like this chapter. **

They lay awake in the dark. "I'm sorry I panicked earlier," Rose said.

"You couldn't help it."

"I could if I tried. I don't have to dream like that. I don't have to get scared every time you aren't around."

"I didn't think you'd wake up so quickly," he said.

"You shouldn't be worrying about what happens if you get up before I do. I've gotten up alone before."

"Yeah, but…" _But before you could see_. He chose his words carefully. "Before you didn't need me the same way."

"Before I wasn't blind. You can say it." She rolled onto her side so she was facing him. She reached over and touched his face. "You frown too much now," she said. "I miss your smile."

"I miss yours."

…

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me?"

"Oh, sure." He took the hairpins she held out. "How do you want it?"

"Just back a little—out of my face."

"I can do that." He carefully pulled back a section of her hair and pinned it. "Did I get the right pins?" she asked.

"Did you want the pearl ones?"

"Yes."

"That's what you got." He finger-combed the back of her hair. "It's getting long again," he said.

"I'm not sure I like it."

"I do." He smiled wistfully. "It reminds me of when we first got married. Do you remember how long you let your hair get?" She laughed. "I could sit on it," she said. She turned to face him. "Right," he said. "And I had to help you brush it."

"And wash it. What was I thinking?"

"It was fun. You washed my hair a few times too, you know," he reminded her.

"Oh, that's right! I wonder if other couples bathe together as often as we do?"

"If they aren't, they should be," he said, putting an arm around her waist. "We haven't done that in a long time," he went on.

"No, we haven't." She smiled tentatively. "Maybe we should."

"Well, I don't know," he said, feigning doubt. "It's almost time for breakfast, and we're already dressed—" She grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. "I just fixed your hair," he finished. She kissed him again. "Take a bath with me," she said. He nodded. "Yes, miss." She kept kissing him as they moved toward the bathtub. "I have to turn on the water," he said, moving away reluctantly. "Don't move."

"Can't I even take off my dress?"

"Oh no, miss," he said, kissing her palm. "You know I do that." He unbuttoned it quickly and let it fall to the floor. His shirt soon followed, and then the rest of their clothes. "I've got you," Jack assured her. "Just step up and in. That's it." The tub was twice the size of theirs. He stepped in behind her. "Jack—" she began.

"Right here." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. She moaned softly as he pressed himself against her. "How could you say I don't want you?" he whispered in her ear. Slowly, they sank down, arranging themselves so she was on his lap, facing him. He leaned against the back of the tub; she pressed her forehead to his. "You always get the water right," she said.

"No cold water for us."

Smiling, she kissed him. She closed her eyes, and it was like nothing had changed. Everything about him was the same; his hands on her body, his lips on her throat, his cheek against hers as she shifted to give him access. She pressed her hands into his back and moved with him. It was all the same. It could all be the same.

…

"Close your eyes," Jack said.

"Why?"

"So I don't get soap in them."

"You aren't going to wash—"

"Why not? It's already wet."

Rose sighed happily as he began lathering her hair. "It feels so much better when you do it," she said.

"Good. Time to rinse."

"I'll do yours next," she offered. She heard the smile in his voice. "Alright," he said.

"Hand me the bottle."

"Uh-huh."

"And switch places with me."

"As you wish."

…..

As they dressed he said, "I've missed you—us, like this."

"I know," she replied. "I have too. I haven't felt…I didn't think about it for a long time. I just wanted to get better, and when I realized I would have these—" She touched the scar on her cheek. "I didn't really _want_ to think about it. It was bad enough when I just had this one." She held a hand over her middle.

"You know none of the matter to me."

She didn't respond. Instead she said, "Will you pin my hair back again?"

…

A part of her was far away, and she was afraid the rest of her would go too if she wasn't careful. She wanted so badly to be better, to be _happier_ for him. _He does so much for me; he always has. _

_Santa Monica _

_January 1923_

"_What if we went away for awhile?" _

"_What?" she said. "Went away?" _

"_Yeah. We could go somewhere. Anywhere you want. I think it would be good for us. For both of us. You aren't working right now, and I can work anywhere," he said. She tilted her head, considering his idea. "It's been awhile since we did anything like that," she said finally. He grinned. "Exactly." She returned the grin, warming to the idea. "Where should we go?" she asked. He shrugged. "Like I said, anywhere you want." Her eyes sparkled. "I'll get the globe," she said. _

He suggested the trip to cheer her up. She knew the loss of the baby—their fourth—hurt him too, but he didn't really talk about it. It hit her so hard he pushed his own feelings back and focused on hers. _And I let him. How selfish am I?_

She leaned her head against his arm. "Tired?" he asked. She shook her head. "No. It feels nice out here. It was a good idea to go for a walk. Has the sun gone down yet?"

"Yeah."

"Was it nice?"

"Want me to tell you about it?" he said, slightly surprised. She hadn't objected outright, but thus far she had mostly resisted his efforts to describe their surroundings for her. "Would you please?"

"Of course."

…

"Mother was very nice today," Rose said. "I was rather surprised. She didn't say one rude thing about you."

"Maybe she finally realized it won't get her what she wants," he suggested.

"Maybe. She didn't bring up my eyes either. I didn't think she was capable of letting a whole day pass without criticizing or scolding me."

"She loves you," Jack said. "That's how she shows it. It's not the best way, but it's hers."

"You hate the way she talks to us," Rose pointed out. "I can't decide which way I prefer her. At least I know how to handle her the other way. Maybe we shouldn't stay he whole week?"

"She hasn't seen you in four years," Jack replied. "We should probably stay. I know she misses you."

"Do you really think so?"

"She's your mother. She loves you as much as I do. Even if it's hard to see it sometimes."

Later, when Jack had fallen asleep, Rose lay her head on his chest. The beating of his heart filled her ear. It was a comforting sound. She squeezed her eyes closed and waited for it to sing her to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. Thoughts crowded her mind. What if he got tired of leading her around? Of handing her things and describing them? What if he began noticing other women? Beautiful women who weren't covered in scars. _Whole_ women. He would grow tired of her unhappiness, of the way she jumped at loud noises—that he did the same didn't seem to matter, nor that he sometimes panicked when he couldn't find her. He would get over that. Jack could get over anything, including her. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they wouldn't go. Tears stung her eyes; she touched his face. "Don't leave me," she whispered. "Please, Jack, don't leave me."

…..

The next morning at breakfast Ruth managed to wait until they both had taken a bite before saying, "The two of you don't have any particular plans for this evening, do you?" Rose turned toward Jack. "No," she said. "Right?" He shook his head. "We don't." A trace of suspicion in his voice he added, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm going to a party tonight, and my hostess—Mrs. Richardson, Rose you remember the Richardsons, don't you?" Without waiting for a response, she went on, "She has been gracious enough to extend an invitation to the two of you. I didn't realize when you said you would be visiting 'sometime in August' that you meant exactly that, so I had to do a little explaining."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Explaining about us? What is there to explain?"

Ruth wore a pained expression. "Hilda doesn't invite just _any_one to her parties. You should know that, and I had to explain who you were. I didn't go into too many details about your being an actress out in California, although they do seem to be coming into fashion just now."

"Of course you did," Rose said.

"Don't be petulant, Rose," Ruth said. "It's unbecoming. You didn't let me finish. Hilda has actually heard of Jack's work."

"I'm in fashion just now," Jack joked. "Yes, I suppose you could say that," Ruth said. "I didn't realize you were still pursuing your art. Given the stunning reversal in your fortunes, I thought you had finally taken a real job."

"If by 'real job' you mean something I do just for the money," Jack answered cheerfully, "I'll never have to do that again."

"How fortunate," Ruth said. "Are the two of you coming to the party or not?" Jack looked at Rose. "Are we?" he asked. Rose hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was stand in a room full of strangers and people from her past. Before, the idea had been simply unpleasant, but now it was almost unbearable. She felt Jack's gaze on her. Would going be a sign of progress? Would mingling with people who knew his work, however superficially, make him happy? "Why not?" she said.

….

"Could you please get out my green dress?"

Jack ran his hand along the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. "The light or the dark?" he asked.

"The light."

"Long or short?"

"The shorter one. I don't know why I brought the longer one. I haven't worn it since 1916," she said. Jack handed her the dress. "I always liked it," he said. With a smile she replied, "I know. Would you help me button this?" Once it was on she spun around. "How does it look?"

"Beautiful," he answered. Her smile deepened. He sounded sincere. She wanted to badly to believe him, but the nagging voice in the back of her mind refused to go away. She took a deep breath and concentrated all her energy on ignoring it. If she could just act like she believed him, just act like her old self, she would start to feel like her old self again. She just had to try harder.

"Are you sure you want to go?" he asked. She nodded. "I'm sure, Jack. We have to start going places again and talking to other people."

"And you want to start with _these_ people?"

"Well, it may not be so bad. Some of them might actually appreciate your work, and we've gone to boring gatherings of the rich and powerful before and found ways to have fun."

"Aren't we a little too old to get drunk and make fun of everyone after they walk away? And we're not sneaking in to steal food anymore either."

Rose gasped in mock horror. "How could we ever be too old for that?" she exclaimed. Her tone became serious again. "Jack, can you promise me something?"

"Sure, anything."

She held his hand in both of hers. "Promise," she said, "you won't leave me alone tonight. Or with my mother."

"Is that all?" He kissed her forehead. "That kinda goes without saying, doesn't it?"

….

The Richardson house was even more imposing than Ruth's. Build of red brick, it dated back to the American Revolution. Jack whistled as they approached the front door. "I know," Rose said. "It's a bit opulent, isn't it?"

"How else are people supposed to know how much to be impressed by them?" Jack replied. She laughed. "Maybe by the diamond tiara Hilda Richardson wears to these things," she suggested. "I could get _you_ a diamond tiara," Jack offered. "It would fit right here in your curls."

"You can't be serious," Rose said. "I'd never wear it."

"That's the most sensible things I've ever heard him say," Ruth interjected. "If he wants to give you a diamond anything, let him. And stop gossiping about our hostess," she hissed the last part out of the corner of her mouth. They hung their heads as though ashamed. "We will," they said in unison. Ruth reached the entrance to the ballroom before she could respond. "Hilda, it looks wonderful," she said, with just the right amount of polite enthusiasm. "However do you find the time?"

Hilda Richardson was a tall, dark haired woman with grey eyes and delicate features. Her hands looked almost too small for her body, and they moved constantly when she spoke. Jack couldn't help but be fascinated by them. "Oh, I manage," she said. "I finally have some decent help." She and Ruth exchanged a quick, soft laugh. "And is this your daughter," Hilda went on, turning to Rose. "She's as lovely as you described. And you must be her husband—the artist."

"Jack Dawson," he said, holding out his hand. Hilda's smile widened, and her eyes flicked over his as they shook hands. "Well, I must greet the rest of my guests," she said. "Enjoy the party." Ruth veered away from them as soon as Hilda turned around.

"That was a bit strange," Jack said. "She looked at me like…"

"Like she wanted to take your clothes off?" Rose finished. "Yeah," Jack said. "Exactly like that. And why didn't she say anything to you?"

"Hilda Richardson has never had much use for women, especially younger women," she explained. "I wouldn't be surprised if she makes a point of coming over to you as soon as she finishes making her rounds." He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter. "Want a drink?" he asked.

"Please."

They moved to an empty space against the back wall. "How long should we stay?" he said. "Unless—do you want to stay all night?"

"No," Rose said, somewhat relieved. "Mother will be here all night, but I think two hours is all I can take."

"It stops being fun after that," he agreed. "Unless they serve dinner. Dining with you first class people is an experience I always enjoy." Rose tilted her head up at him. "You first class people?" she said. "Should I be offended by that remark?"

"Offended?" Jack said with exaggerated incredulity.

"Because I'll have you know," Rose continued, "marrying you has taken me out of that club forever."

He lightly stroked he cheek with his thumb. "Yeah, but we have our own club," he said. Rose felt lighter than she had since before that day in India. "You look happy," he said. "I haven't seen your eyes like that in a long time."

"I am happy."

They slowly made their way around the room. Some people merely looked at them curiously, but most introduced themselves. Those who had known Rose as a child and a young woman couldn't help but express shock at where her life had gone. She answered their questions politely, all the while silently wishing they would all just say what they really meant. No-one mentioned her scars or her blindness. It wouldn't have been polite to do so, and for once she was grateful for the constant need high society people felt to keep everything light and pleasant.

"Here comes Hilda," Jack murmured. "If we hurry, we can make it out before she gets to us." A slightly drunk Rose giggled. "Let's go," she said. She wobbled a bit as they moved toward the door. "Careful," Jack said, taking hold of her waist. "No falling."

They were going out the door as he came in. Rose was leaning against Jack, laughing. "She's going to be so angry that you didn't stay and talk to her again," she said. "She'll get over it," Jack replied. He looked up and their eyes met. For a moment they just stared at each other, neither sure what the other would do, and then Jack broke into a wide smile. "Good night!" he called.

"Jack, who are you talking to?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. No-one, I guess."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I've been writing Titanic fic for a long time now, and I'm glad I'm able to come up with something people can still find interesting. **

That night Rose fell asleep easily. She awoke feeling refreshed and light; for the first time she truly believed everything would be alright. "Someone's cheerful this morning," Jack said.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You were smiling in your sleep," he said. "What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't remember," she answered. "But I have a good feeling about today." She sat up and stretched her arms above her head. "We should go on an adventure," she said.

"Really? An adventure?"

"I mean it. We should explore, find a part of the city we haven't been to yet. Get lost, maybe."

Her sudden enthusiasm was infectious. Jack sat up next to her. "Alright," he said. "Let's do it."

Ruth expressed her disapproval of their plan during breakfast, but they brushed her criticism aside. "It was Rose's idea," Jack explained. He and Ruth exchanged glances. Still frowning, she nodded her understanding. "Be careful out there," she said.

…

"Do you want to walk all day?" Rose asked.

"Let's try and walk as long as we can," Jack said. "But if it gets too hot we gotta stop. You'd never be able to make it back if I collapsed," he teased.

"Of course I could," she argued. "I may not be able to find my way back on my own, but I could certainly drag you along."

"Well, that's comforting," he said with a chuckle. Rose hesitated, waiting for her mind's negative response, but she was relieved to find, none came. "It's not really that hot today, though, is it?" she said. "The breeze is actually a _breeze_!"

"It's a bit cloudy," Jack said. "Looks like it might rain later."

"What else?"

"What else?"

"Is happening," she said. "What else do you see?"

Please by her continued interest in the world, Jack said, "There's not that many people out right now. The streets are pretty clear, which is nice. I think this neighborhood is Russian. I'm not really sure how we got here, actually, but it looks like Russian on some of the signs."

_It's nice because it means he doesn't have to drag a blind woman through a crowd. _Rose pushed the thought away. _I'm not doing that today,_ she told herself. "I always wanted to go to Russia," she said. "When I was a child, mostly."

"You did?" he asked, surprised. "You never told me that."

"Of course I told you that. I doubt if there's anything I _haven't_ told you by now."

"You never told me if you like jazz. I asked you once, and you didn't answer."

"I don't like it," she said airily.

"Really? You don't?"

"I really do not. It's just…I don't enjoy it. Maybe I'm too old."

"I'm gonna say that's not it," he replied. "Because if you're too old, then I'm—I don't want to think about it."

Rose laughed. "It's not that bad."

"For you, maybe. You'll always be the younger one."

"Yes," she countered, "but you'll always be the worldly, experienced one."

"You're worldly," he said. "And you've had experiences." She shook her head. "With you," she said. "Because of you."

"You'dve done all those things without me. Everything you needed was already in you when we met."

"I might never have let myself be free without you," she said. "That part of me would have given up years ago if we hadn't met. I saw what I wanted, but it wasn't clear. I just had a vague idea, and it was mostly 'not what I have now' or 'anything but my mother's life.' You gave my desires a direction, gave me something concrete to want." Jack studied her face. "What was that?" he said.

"You," she admitted. "And everything we talked about." Rose held her breath for a moment, waiting for his response. There was no reason to be nervous; she knew she was being absurd. But she couldn't banish the sad, anxious feelings completely. It took all her efforts to keep the thoughts from becoming verbal in her head. She was relieved when Jack put his arm around her and kissed her hair. He didn't speak, but that was fine. Words weren't necessary.

….

"Are you hungry?" Rose was a bit surprised to hear herself ask. Except for the occasional description of their surroundings, they had remained in a comfortable silence. So far, the day hadn't quite lived up to Rose's "adventure" label, but simply walking along with him was better than anything else she could think of. _And haven't we had enough exciting experiences for one lifetime?_ The sudden self-doubt caught her off guard; she had let herself relax too much. _It's all your capable of at this point, isn't it? _She closed her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. It was all about will.

Jack turned toward her, about to answer. "Are you alright?" he said instead, concerned. "I'm fine," she said quickly. Her eyes popped open. They came to a stop. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You look a little—"

She smiled as brightly as she could. "I'm fine," she insisted. "I'm just hungry. It's probably all the walking we've been doing." He peered down at her face. "I am too," he said slowly. "Let's go find some lunch." He kept glancing at her as they walked, checking for another sudden change. It wasn't until they were settled into their chairs at a small Russian restaurant that he began to relax again. _Stop being so overprotective. You're gonna smother her._ It was difficult advice to follow, though, given how close he had come to losing her.

_India 1923_

_Jack had to be coaxed into putting Rose down. "We can't do anything for her if you keep holding her," Nigel, one of the doctors explained gently. "You have to let us take a look at her." A part of him knew Nigel was right, but another, stronger part, was convinced if he let them take her away, he would never see her again. "Gently now," Nigel said, "Just—yes." He stepped between Jack and Rose, who now lay on a white-sheeted bed. "Nurse—" Jack didn't hear anything else. He couldn't seem to hear anything else. He tried to stay still, but somehow found himself being lightly pushed back. A door swung shut, and Rose was gone. _

"I have no idea what we should order," Jack said quietly.

"Neither do I."

Without meaning to, they burst into a fit of giggles. Rose leaned across the table. "Are people looking at us?" she whispered. Jack leaned across the table as well. "A few," he said, struggling to sound serious. "I wonder what they're thinking," Rose said.

Jack glanced around the room. "The lady across from us looks a bit stern. I don't think she approves. She kinda reminds me of your mother. The man on the other side of us is—" He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper—"Looking at you but pretend he isn't."

"Jack, he is not."

"No, he is. There—I just caught him—" Jack waved. "Hi!" he called cheerfully. "Can I help you?" Scowling, the man looked down at his plate. "I can't believe you just did that!" Rose whispered, sounding more amused than angry. "When did you get so jealous?"

"I'm not really," he said. "I've never thought I had any reason to be. If people wanna look at you, I can't stop them. You're beautiful. I just don't want them to act like it's something to be ashamed of."

"Staring at another man's wife isn't something to be ashamed of?"

"You know you're mother than that," he said. "And looking's harmless. They do anything else, then there's a problem." He paused. "I don't sound like—"

"No." She shook her head. "No danger of that."

…

"Are we allowed to drink in a public park?" Rose leaned back against the tree trunk. "Is it legal?"

"I don't know," Jack answered. "I guess we'll find out. Hold out your hand." He placed a freshly poured glass of red wine in her hand. She took a sip. "It's good," she said. She patted a spot next to her. "Come sit here?"

"On my way," he said, carefully placing the open wine bottle between two tree roots. He settled in beside her, putting an arm around her. "This is nice," she said with a smile. "We haven't done anything like this in a long time."

"We'll start doing things like this again," he said. "It's good for us. Even before…what happened, we weren't doing enough things together."

"We were working," Rose said. "I had one play and then another. It took so long to start getting roles, I couldn't very well turn them down once they started being offered. And you were preparing for that show."

_December 1922_

"_There you are," Rose said, rounding the corner. Jack held a finger up to his lips. "Why are you back here?" she whispered. "I'm hiding," he explained._

"_From what? Why aren't you out there, enjoying the party?" _

"_I'm hiding from the party," he explained. _

"_Jack, I don't understand. This party is for you. Why don't you want to be here?"_

"_I know. I should be happy; I should be ecstatic. Isn't this what I wanted? Not just to make a decent living with my art, but to have people enjoy it and talk about it?"_

"_So, what's the problem?" _

"_I don't feel like most of the people out there understand it. They don't see how much each piece means to me or how much of myself I put into them. Ever since my work started getting popular, more and more people who are only interested in it because it's popular have appeared. I can't stand that," he said, clearly agitated. _

"_Isn't that something you simple have to deal with if you reach a level of success higher than selling drawings on the pier?" Rose said calmly. "I understand how you feel, and if you want to spend the rest of the night back here, that's fine with me. We can go home, if you'd rather." But you shouldn't let a handful of superficial people ruin this for you." She placed her hands on his shoulders. "You could be great," she said, looking up into his eyes. "You could be remembered. But not if you run away from the unpleasant side of success. I'm so proud of you," she went on. "Of being your wife, and that won't change, no matter what you decide." _

"_How can I stay back here after that?" he said. "You're right. I shouldn't let them bother me. None of this is what I expected, though." _

"_What did you expect?" _

"_I dunno…something more fun," he said with a quick laugh. _

"_Make it fun." _

Jack smiled at the memory; he didn't allow himself to remember the rest of the night or the days that followed. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He glanced up; dark clouds filled the sky. A cool wind blew Rose's hair back. "It's about to rain, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah. We should probably get inside."

Quickly, he gathered the glasses and bottle in one hand and helped Rose to her feet with the other. Thunder rumbled again, closer this time. A few droplets of rain landed on them. "Let's try and find a taxi," he suggested.

As soon as the door shut behind them, the impending storm seemed to abate. Thunder continued to rumble but came no closer. A light rain fell. When they were a few blocks from Ruth's neighborhood, they got out, preferring to walk the rest of the way. The sky was almost black, but it was as if the storm had paused. After a few steps, Jack realized one of his hands was empty. "I forgot the rest of the wine and the glasses," he said.

"That's alright. I think we've had enough anyway."

Jack described everything they passed in as much detail as he could. Rose listened eagerly. He stopped mid-sentence as his eye was caught by a diamond tiara glittering in a store window. "Would you mind making another stop?" he asked.

"No. Why?"

"It's a surprise."

He led her into the jewelry store. It was much larger than it looked from the outside. Long glass cases ran along the walls. On the left was a door marked "Private." A couple were at the far end of the store, being shown a tray of earrings. An employee was instantly at Jack's elbow. "May I help you?" he asked.

Rose pursed her lips, puzzled. "Can we see—" Jack motioned toward the tiara in the window and held a finger over his lips. The employee nodded, casting a curious glance at Rose. "Of course," he said. A moment later he returned, tiara in hand. "Here you are, sir."

Jack took the pins from Rose's hair and shook out her curls. "Jack, what are you doing?" she asked. "Thanks," he said, taking the tiara. "Just seeing how something looks," he said. He placed the tiara atop her curls. It was made of silver, with a mixture of small and medium-sized diamonds. Rose's flaming hair set it off perfectly. "That's what I thought," he said softly.

"Jack, did you just put a tiara on my head?"

"I did." He was still caught up in admiring the way it looked on her. She reached up and touched it. "It isn't heavy," she said. "Is it pretty at least? It feels pretty."

"It is on you," he said.

"We have other styles," the employee interrupted. "Perhaps—"

"No," Jack said decisively. "We want this one."

"Very good sir."

"Jack, no!" Rose hissed, trying to keep her voice low. "You cannot buy me a tiara. That was a joke! I can't even see myself in it!"

"I really want to do this," he said. "It was a joke, but now I want to do it."

"Why? This isn't the sort of thing you care about."

"You're right," he agreed. "But I think it would be fun. I've never really given you anything ridiculous and extravagant, and just once, I want to."

"Alright," she said. Jack handed the tiara to the employee, who scurried off to put it in a box. Rose leaned in and kissed him. "I'd also like to draw you wearing it," he murmured.

"Sir?"

"What?" He turned away from Rose. "Oh yeah. I'm coming." She waited, her hand on his arm, while Jack wrote out the check and paid the man. It was such an unexpected thing for him to do, but she understand his reasons. To look at them, one would think they were financially stable, comfortable, maybe, but not wealthy. And yet, that's what they had slowly become. Their absence from America hadn't stopped Jack's rise in the art world, if anything, it had helped it along. He had shipped paintings back—bleak, tortured images painted to relieve anger and pain, mixed with portraits of Rose.

_That's what he said, but maybe he's just trying to make it up to you._

_There's nothing to make up to me,_ she argued with herself.

_There's your blindness. You apparent barrenness—no, actually, you can get pregnant. You just can't stay pregnant. _

Rose steeled herself against the thoughts. _No. _

She was tense as Jack took her hand. They were turning to leave, arrangements having been made for the tiara to be delivered, when the door opened and in walked a man. Everything Jack was about to say was forgotten as he realized who was standing in front of them. He wanted to be nonchalant; he wanted to react the way he had the previous night, but he couldn't. He tightened his grip on Rose's hand and led her in a wide arc around him. Their gazes met as they passed each other, with a puzzled glance thrown at Rose.

As they headed down the street, Jack let out the breath he had been holding, and a heavy rain suddenly began to fall.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the week flew by, and before they knew it, it was their last night in Philadelphia. "We don't have to go home yet," Jack said. Rose sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. She couldn't see what she was doing, but there was something comforting about doing things the way she always had. "Not go home?" she said. "Do you not want to?"

"It's not that. It's just, if you wanted, we could make the trip longer. Stop along the way and explore a little."

Rose considered his suggestion. A part of her missed being home. She loved their beach house. They could hear the ocean from every room, and it was so open and full of light. _The doesn't really matter now, does it?_ she thought ruefully. As much as she wanted to go back, she also dreaded it. Facing her limitations in a place that was so familiar would be far more difficult than facing them in strange places had been. She would need Jack just to make it around the house; swimming in the ocean was out of the question. "I'd like that," she said. "We should do it. It will be like when we traveled around before."

"Yeah," Jack said. "We can just wander around for awhile." Rose grinned into the mirror. "Like two tumbleweeds blowin in the wind," she said. Jack nodded, returning her grin. "That's a good way to put it," he said. "Where've I heard that before?"

"Oh, this crazy drifter said it to me once," she said.

"Crazy, huh?"

"Well, he let half his drawings be swept into the ocean—just taken by the wind. Wouldn't you call that crazy?"

"Maybe." Jack shrugged. "If his came was easily as mine do, maybe not." He watched Rose walk past him into the bedroom. She chose each step carefully, hands poised to catch herself if she stumbled or misremembered the room's layout. He wanted to take her hand and help her, but he knew he shouldn't. She had to learn how to do more things on her own. He couldn't walk her across every room; it wouldn't be good for either of them if he tried. "Did he say anything else?" he asked, stepping into the bedroom.

Rose pulled one of the decorative pillows from the bed and tossed it aside. "No. Not really," she said. "He talked a lot, but most of it was just babbling. Remember, he was crazy." Jack began helping her prepare the bed. "I once knew a debutante," he said.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. She was crazy too. And a bad liar."

"How do you know? What did she lie to you about?"

"This guy," Jack explained. "She tried to get me to believe she loved this guy she was engaged to, but I knew the truth." Rose sat down on the edge of the bed. "You could just see it, I suppose," she said. Jack sat down on his side. "I could," he said. Slowly, they began moving toward one another. "It was all over her face," he murmured. Rose reached out and touched his arm. "In her eyes," he added. He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss built in passion. Jack curled his free hand around her waist and let himself fall back, pulling her down onto him.

…

"I'm sorry I can't see you off, but I simply _must_ be on time for this meeting," Ruth said briskly. "If I'm late, and Charlotte tried to run things—well, it will be a disaster. You understand, don't you?" Jack and Rose nodded in unison. "It's fine, Mother," Rose said. "We understand." Ruth smiled weakly. "You're going home?" she asked.

"Actually," Rose explained, "we're going to travel around for awhile first."

"Travel? To where?"

"Nowhere specific." Rose sipped her coffee and waited for her mother's reaction. Ruth frowned at Jack. "That sounds—nice," she said in a falsely cheerful voice. "I hope you enjoy yourselves." Rose held in her surprise. Where had this change in attitude come from? Ruth's disapproval of their plan was obvious, yet she was trying to hide it. Never had she tried to hide disapproval from her. Rose's spirits sank. _She thinks I'm too fragile now. She doesn't want to upset me because she's afraid it will make me worse. _In some ways, this was more difficult to take than Jack's reactions. He had always been a little protective of her, but her mother's ideas on the subject had always been decidedly different. She was startled out of her thoughts by Jack's hand on her shoulder. "Ready to go?" he asked. She nodded, managing a smile. "Yes," she said. "I'm ready."

….

They were quiet on the way to the train station, each lost in thought. Jack was looking forward to seeing new placed and meeting new people. Rose seemed so much better now; not exactly happy and carefree, but definitely _happier_. She didn't look quite so weighed down, and that made him feel lighter too. Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing the sudden downturn Rose's mood had taken. She was trying to fight it, but the anxiety was strong, bringing sadness with it. It wasn't overwhelming; she could feel holds in it, and she knew eventually she would make it through one.

"So, where do you wanna go?" Jack asked when they arrived at the station. Rose held her breath, struggling to climb through a hole and back into the light. "Louisiana," she said, saying the first place that came to mind. "Alright," he said. "We've never been that far south before."

There wasn't a train to Louisiana that day. "Nowhere in the whole state?" Jack asked, dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, sir," replied the woman in the ticket booth. "There was a train to Baton Rouge, but it left at seven this morning. The next train to Louisiana goes to New Orleans, and it doesn't leave until nine tomorrow morning."

Jack brushed his hair back and let out a sigh. "What else is there?"

"There's a train leaving for Memphis in twenty minutes," she said. Her tone became friendly and confidential. "You could take a riverboat from there. It's a nice way to see the country." Jack turned to Rose. "What do you think?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow. "Another boat?" she said.

"You think we shouldn't?"

"Actually, I think we should. There's no reason to be afraid, is there?"

Jack smiled and took her hand. "No," he said.

"The Mississippi River should be warm this time of year," Rose added. "And more swimmable than an ocean."

The station was just starting to get crowded as they hurried to their platform. Rose didn't protest when Jack held on to her. There was no way she could find her way without him. Sweat beads formed on her forehead and under her hair. Whatever cooling effect the previous week's storm had brought was long over. _And I suggested going further south! _

Jack was too busy reading the platform numbers to notice the hole. He just happened to step right over it. It wasn't very deep, just enough for Rose's foot to get caught in it, sending her flying to the ground. Her breath caught in her throat; panicking, she let go of Jack's hand and flailed wildly trying to catch herself, rather than use him for support. She cried out in pain as she hit the ground. "Rose!" Jack exclaimed, dropping to his knees. "Are you alright?" He lifted her up. "I didn't see it," he said. I'm so sorry!" His hands moved over her, checking for injuries.

"I'm fine," she said shakily. "It was just a fall. I-I was surprised, that's all. I didn't see it coming—obviously." She laughed weakly. Jack helped her to her feet. "I should've been more careful," he said. "I shoulda been looking."

"Jack, I—"

"Your hands are bleeding!" he cried. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed her palms to it. "Do they hurt?"

"A little. My knees hurt, but—" She was cut off by the force of Jack's embrace. "I'm alright," she said. "Jack, really, I'm fine." He didn't seem to hear her. He held her tightly and didn't move; if he held her tightly enough he could protect her. Nothing could touch her. He had failed before, but he wouldn't this time. The present began disintegrating around him, and the sounds of screams and explosions filled the air. He smelled blood and gunpowder. She was in his arms, but she wasn't moving. She was so pale and still, like a porcelain doll, like the last thing she ever wanted to be…..

"Jack?" Rose freed an arm and lightly shook him. "Jack?" she repeated, a little louder. He looked around, unsure of where he was. He held his breath as the panic subsided. "We need to go," Rose said.

"Yeah."

"Are you alright?"

He helped her to her feet. "I'm fine," he said. He put his arm around her and held her close. "We don't wanna miss our train," he added. They walked quickly; Jack weaved through the crowd with ease. His eyes scanned everything around them, alert for any threats. He saw him a few steps from their platform. He was coming toward them, but he hadn't seen them yet. Jack tensed and held Rose tighter. He hated the way he was reacting. Did it really matter if they walked past one another? What threat did he pose? And yet, every time he saw Cal his reaction grew stronger. It felt like more than a coincidence, seeing him so many times in just a few days after going fifteen years without seeing him once. Jack wondered if Fate wasn't trying to tell him something.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Rose asked. She reached up and touched his face. "I'm fine," he lied, trying to sound cheerful. "No, you aren't," she said. "That frown—you're so tense. Jack, what is it?"

"Nothing," he insisted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cal watching them. He tried to steer Rose toward the train, but she resisted. "Tell me," she said, placing her hands on his chest in an attempt to hold him still. She looked up into his face, hoping her eyes on his, sightless though they might be, would get a response.

Cal's voice was smooth, almost pleasant. "I just cannot stop seeing you," he said. Rose turned toward him, eyes narrowed in confusion. It couldn't be, but she knew it was. She would know that voice anywhere. Cal's gaze flicked from Jack, whose glare received a mocking grin, to Rose. Why was she looking at him like that? He frowned, annoyed at her lack of reaction. Although, had she reacted to seeing him the other times? Jack had, but she had acted as though she hadn't even seen him. Now he realized, taking a closer look at her eyes, she really hadn't seen him.

"My God," he laughed. "You blinded her! How did you manage to do that?"

Rose couldn't believe her ears. How dare he! She felt Jack move slightly, as if preparing to spring. She pressed her hands firmly against his chest. "We need to go," she said calmly. He glared over her head. His hands twitched with the urge to punch Cal's smirk. Cal stood with an air of practiced nonchalance, waiting to see what Jack would do. "Come on," Rose said, turning him around. "We only have a few minutes." Jack started walking. She hoped that would be the end of it, but of course, it wasn't.

"Do you always do what she says?" Cal called mockingly. "Well, I'm sure she does plenty for you, doesn't she?"

Rose knew trying to stop Jack would be useless. She stood silently and listened as Jack rushed past her. She heard his footsteps on the pavement followed by Cal's surprised gasp. The sound of blows came a moment later, and then the soft _thwmp_ of a body hitting the ground. There was yelling, but she couldn't make out what anyone was saying—Jack, Cal, the crowd, all their voices mingled together in her ears. Someone brushed past her, shoving her as they went. As she struggled to maintain her balance, it hit her for the first time just how helpless she had become on her own.


	5. Chapter 5

Without thinking, Rose began to move. She had no idea what was in front of her, and she didn't care. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness stirred an anger deep within her. The crowd seemed to part and allow her to pass through. Jack's voice grew louder with each step. "Jack!" she screamed.

He froze, one hand gripping Cal's shirt collar, the other in the air, curled into a fist. A bruise was beginning to form under his eye. Blood spattered his shirt. He glared down at Cal, who gasped for breath. His mouth was bleeding; his eye was bruised, and his nose was beginning to swell. Slowly, Jack stood up. Cal eyed him warily. A hush fell over the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight. Rose held out her hands. Jack began walking toward her. "Rose—"

"We have to go," she said with a forced calmness. "Now."

"I'll have you arrested for this!" Cal yelled, now on his feet. The crowd began murmuring. "Ignore him," Rose said. "We need to get on the train." Jack nodded. "Yeah," he said, taking her hand. "It's over here."

"Do you always go what she says?" Cal mocked. Jack whirled around to respond. "Wait right there," a deep voice called, stopping him. Cal wiped the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief and smirked as the police officer stopped in front of them. "What just happened here?" he demanded, looking from Cal to Jack. Rose clung to Jack's hand. "It's alright," he said softly.

"This man assaulted me," Cal said, pointing at Jack. "I want him arrested immediately!"

"Any particular reason he would do this?" Sgt. O'Malley asked, taking out a pen and notepad. "I don't know," Cal snapped. "I'm the _victim_ here. Why am I being questioned?"

"I have to establish the facts, sir," O'Malley said calmly. "Now," he went on, tuning to Jack. "Have you and this gentleman met before?" Jack and Cal glanced at each other. "No," Cal said and Jack said, "Yes."

"So, which is it? Yes or no?"

"Yes," Rose said firmly. "We've all met." O'Malley tipped his hat and smiled at Rose. "And how are you involved in this, ma'am?"

"I'm his wife," she explained, indicating Jack with a tilt of her head.

"Uh-huh. I see. And this little quarrel didn't have anything to do with the lady now, did it?" he asked, eying Jack and Cal. "No," Cal said as once again, Jack said, "Yes."

"Uh-huh. Well, this is all very clear, isn't it?"

"He insulted my wife," Jack said. "What would you have done?"

"We're not talking about me," O'Malley said. "We're talking about what _you two_ gentlemen did."

"That—that _degenerate _is a liar!" Cal cried, outraged. "I did not such thing! He—"

"Why don't we all go down to the station and discuss it further," O'Malley suggested. "That seems like the best thing to do."

…..

Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He stared at the floor, frowning. Rose sat next to him on the small bench. She faced forward, listening to the activity around them. They had been waiting for three hours. Cal had been questioned for an hour, and each of them separately for an hour each. Now, Cal was being questioned again—or complaining. They weren't sure which, and they didn't really care either way. They both suspected the whole affair was being drawn out simply to further irritate Cal.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I shouldn'tve done that. We wouldn't be here now if I'd just let it go."

"No, we wouldn't be," Rose said. "But you wouldn't be the man I fell in love with if you had just let it go." She felt her way over to his hand. "I don't mind sitting here all day," she continued. "If we were on the train, that's all we would be doing anyway."

"Yeah, but at least we'd be on our way somewhere."

"We can leave tomorrow," she said. "Or tonight, even. It's not as though we have an itinerary to keep. I thought we tried to avoid those." Jack sighed. "You're making it really hard to be mad at myself," he said. "You gotta stop being so understanding and reasonable. Don't you know women are irrational?"

"I guess I must have missed that day of finishing school," she joked. Jack couldn't help but smile. "Ah-ha," she said, touching his face. "I knew that would get it."

….

It was late afternoon by the time they left. They decided to start over again the next day. Neither of them wanted to explain to Ruth what had happened, though they were sure she would hear about it soon, if she hadn't already, so they checked into a hotel for the night.

Rose sank down onto the bed. "I'm exhausted," she said, as if just realizing it. "It's been a long day," Jack said.

"A long, emotional day," she added.

"Yeah."

"I think I'll take a bath," she said, slipping off her shoes. She plucked the pins from her hair and shook it loose. "Will you show me where the tub is?"

"Sure." He took her hand. "It's right through here."

"Would you mind if I wanted to be alone?" she asked. He shook his head. "No," he replied. "Just call if you need something."

"I will."

Jack lingered for a moment after the door closed behind her. His head swam with the day's events. He felt physically and emotionally drained. He knew it had been too good to be true, seeing Cal not one but twice without incident. Hadn't the whole trip back been a little too good to be true? Outside, the sun was beginning to set. His stomach growled, reminding him their last meal had been breakfast. It felt like days had passed since then. He knocked on the door.

"I'm fine," Rose called over the running water.

"What do you want for dinner?" he asked. "I'm gonna call down for something."

"Anything," she said. "I'll be happy with whatever you get."

"Okay." He lay his hand on the door. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He didn't even know how to express the feeling he had, but maybe, if he concentrated hard enough she would just know. She seemed to read his mind at other times. This wasn't really that different.

…

"Jack, are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"It really scared me today," she said.

"I did?"

"No—not you. You not being there. When I couldn't be sure where you were or what was happening. I felt so alone and helpless….I don't know what I would do without you. That means so much more now than it used to."

Jack moved closer, tightening his arm around her. He kissed her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "You don't have to think about that."

"Something could happen to you," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It could. But don't worry about that. We don't know what's coming, and worrying won't change it. I will be more careful, though," he added. "It's that I coulda been arrested, isn't it? That's what you've been thinking about?"

"Until today, I was just afraid you would leave me," she said. "But when that cop came over….I realized there was so much more to be afraid of."

"You'd be fine, you know."

"What?"

"If something happened to me. You'd be fine. You're strong, and you're smart. "Until today, I was just afraid you would leave me," she said. "But when that cop came over….I realized there was so much more to be afraid of."

"You'd be fine, you know."

"What?"

"If something happened to me. You'd be fine. You're strong, and you're smart. You'd figure something out."

"I don't want to have to do that."

"I know, and I don't want you to, but I know you would," he said. He slowly moved his fingertips in circles on her bare belly. Her skin was soft and smooth until he got to the scar. He fought the memory it awoke. "You don't ever have to worry about money," he said. "If anything happens to me. I've taken care of it."

"You did? When?"

"Right after they told me you probably wouldn't see again. It really hit me how close I came to losing you and how difficult things would be for you if it were the other way around. You wouldn't know how to really get our money or even where all of it is."

"You've always handled it. We've been very traditional in that way," she said. "I've never really minded. You seemed to enjoy it." He laughed. "Yeah, well, it's been nerve-wracking at times," he said. "Trying to manage it all."

"It all? How much do we have?"

"We have a lot," he replied. "I mean, a lot. I started investing some of it after my work started selling, and we've done really well. Or I picked the right guy to handle it for me. I dunno. I set up an account that can't be touched unless I…unless something happens to me. Money just goes into it."

"Jack, you don't have to—" she began. He kissed her cheek. "I'm gonna take care of you no matter what," he said. "I shoulda already told you about it. I probably shoulda already told you about a lot of things."

"It might be good for me to be more involved," she said. "I need to be more independent. There are things I do need you for, but I can do a lot for myself. You shouldn't worry about leaving me alone in a room. Nothing will happen if you spend an hour by yourself." She laced her fingers through his. "I know you miss going off by yourself," she continued. "You don't have to say it. You haven't been drawing, either."

"I haven't felt like it."

"You've been too busy worrying about me."

"Yeah, I've been worrying about you," he agreed. "Rose, you almost died, and I'm trying to get over that, but I'm not quite there yet. So, I worry more than I should. It's alright. Don't blame yourself for it.

…

Rose sighed contentedly. "Glad to finally be leaving?" Jack asked. She nodded. "I feel so much better," she said. "Maybe being there was affecting me—maybe being around my mother…I don't know. I just feel good. Hopeful."

"Me too. Let's keep that feeling."

"I'll try," she said. She meant it. There would be no more sadness. She wouldn't let anxiety take over her thoughts; she wouldn't go numb and wish she could stay in bed, doing nothing and speaking to no-one. She would be happy again. They both would be happy again. "I'm gonna go walk around for a minute," he said. "Do you want to come?"

"No, you go ahead. I'll be fine here."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." She nudged him. "Go on, Jack."

But like most things, she would find it was much easier said than done.


End file.
